Fish Musings
by Jax Malcolm
Summary: A Sunday afternoon on a park bench. A random comment. Deep thoughts sprouting from something stupid. Pseudovignette served with slight humor written on a whim.


"Fish."  
  
I turned to look at him with a strange glance. My brother was so weird sometimes. Only he would sit down on a park bench on a beautiful Sunday afternoon and say something to the extent of "fish."  
  
"W-what?" I asked with a confused stutter.  
  
I was only nine at the time, and my brother was ten years older than me. At that point, I thought what he was saying was something that an adult would come up with and that I was too naïve to comprehend. Then again, Bill was ALWAYS hard to understand. He was always out there in his own little world, after all. If the eccentric march to the beat of a different drummer, Bill's drum was a cooking pot, and his drummer was a mental patient.  
  
Not that I didn't love my brother, of course. In fact, it was his complete disposition that made me feel happy when he came to our home in Goldenrod for those rare visits (the ones he could make when he could tear himself from his research). Bill always had a warm, cheerful air about him that made him hard to hate (even if his peculiarities made it hard to really get him). He had a knack for making people happy, especially when you got to know him.  
  
Then, he turned to smile at me with a childlike look on his face.  
  
"Fish," he repeated.  
  
"I know what you said," I responded calmly. "But why did you say it?"  
  
He shrugged. "I was just thinking about how nice it would be to be a fish."  
  
Looking back, the statement seemed so outlandish it was funny. At the time, however, I could have sworn Bill was insane. Then again, so did everyone else.  
  
"You know..." His smile broadened, as if he and I were in on the same joke and insinuation. "Could you imagine living like a fish? Having a cranial capacity the size of a pea? Do you have any idea how few a Magikarp's problems are? Or how about the anxiety that a Feebas faces? Few indeed! The amount of worries that an average pet Magikarp faces, for example, are next to none. Their daily habits include waking up, eating, swimming about, excreting wastes, and repeating this process over and over until the time comes for it to go to sleep at the end of the day. In the wild, Magikarp are too oblivious to comprehend true danger, even if they face any such thing."  
  
My brother had his moments. You know... Those moments when his intelligence shined through, and he wound up coming up with a deep philosophy based on the most pathetic thing in the universe. They were the same moments where I really didn't understand him simply because he worded things in a way a young child would never even grasp.  
  
And yet, in those moments, you could really see the sort of optimism and passion Bill had for everything. He had this talent for making people envy or appreciate the smallest creature. That's probably because he really didn't hate anyone or anything, save for Team Rocket and our father. In fact, if there was one thing about Bill that I could really remember, it's that he was friendly to (almost) everyone. Sure, you had to work to earn Bill's true trust, but he was always willing to give almost anyone a chance.  
  
"Oh," I said. "But... Wouldn't it bite to be a Magikarp? I mean, they're so weak!"  
  
Bill shrugged again. "Even the weakest and simplest of creatures can live a happy life. Take the amoeba, for example. A simple creature without even a brain to live off of, and yet, it's still happy. Granted, it doesn't have a brain to actually FEEL happiness, but it doesn't have one to complain either, right?"  
  
He chuckled at his own joke. And yet, I didn't get it. Bill's sense of humor was a strange thing, after all. A brand of true British humor -- subtle and filled with innuendoes or inside jokes.  
  
Bill looked out into the park scenery. My glance followed his. People were walking down the stone path, some with a Growlithe or two on leashes. People sat at the edge of the fountain across the path from our small bench, going on with their daily, mundane tasks. It was like any other weekend in the park.  
  
I looked back at my brother and realized that his smile was gone. His mouth bent down slightly (though it wasn't a frown), but his eyes held the most expression in them. There seemed to be an intense sadness in those deep, brown pools. An unexplainable unhappiness. Only later had I found out that it was loneliness and depression. I never knew what was going on in his head. I never knew that there was a storm in his mind. I never knew that that's why he left.  
  
"Big brother?" I inquired as I touched his arm. (I still remember how his warmth even came through the cloth of his shirt and jacket.) "Is something wrong?"  
  
He turned his head sharply and looked at me with wide eyes filled with surprise. For a moment, he had gone to his own little world again. He forgot where he was and who he was with. After a few awkward moments, he smiled at last.  
  
"No," he said with a strangely soft voice. "No, don't worry yourself over me. It's... nothing."  
  
He looked back towards the people for a long while. I tried to look at his expression to read it clearly. All I saw was a strange, forlorn air mixed with a bit of detatched happiness. It was the sort of look one would have if they experienced nostalgia. I wondered what he was thinking...  
  
At last, he stood up and held out his hand.  
  
"Well, I think we've been sitting for long enough," he said. "How about I treat you to ice cream on our way home?"  
  
I smiled and jumped forward from where I sat on the bench. My hand went into his quickly.  
  
"Yeah!" I replied to his offer. "Can I have a banana split?"  
  
His smile was broad. He once told me he liked it when I was happy, and he was good at making me happy as well.  
  
"Whatever you want," he finally answered.  
  
As I skipped beside my brother, I remained oblivious to anything that might be going on inside his head. I had no idea where Bill's thoughts about fish came from, nor did I know his TRUE feelings about life itself. Looking back, I wish I had known.  
  
Maybe then I could have saved him when I had the chance. 


End file.
